


Unbelievable

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 11, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Sam, Crack, Dean Has Been Scarred For Life, Kissing, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mutual Masturbation, Self-cest, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Darkness is gone and Sam's got some free time on his hands. So of course he's off investigating parts of the Bunker he's never been into before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbelievable

Deep in the depths of the Bunker, there are corners that Sam and Dean have never visited. Doors they’ve yet to open. Rooms they’ve never walked into. Every now and then—when they have some down time and don’t need to be researching how to stop the end of the world just that second—they guys will brace themselves for the worst and open up one of these rooms. Normally they do it together, but today Dean has insisted on washing Baby and Sam needs something to do.

That’s why he’s standing right outside a locked door, a huge ring of keys in hand. Sam tries a dozen keys and finally slots the right one into the lock. The darkly stained wood of the door looks almost pristine, despite its age and the fact that they’ve never dusted or cleaned this far into the belly of the Bunker. _A bit too pristine_ , Sam decides warily as he rolls up the sleeves of red and black plaid shirt, and pulls his hair back into a short ponytail.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” Sam says to himself as he turns the key in the lock. The door clicks open and swings back on silent hinges.

Gloom stares back at Sam, so he pulls out a flashlight and carefully searches for a light switch near the door. Finding one, he flips the main overhead light on, the bulb energizing into life. Turning his flashlight off, Sam moves away from the wall and steps into the near empty room. Hardly ten foot by eight, there’s almost nothing in the room. A stack of large wooden crates—that look like they belong in a secret government warehouse—stand to Sam’s right.

Against the far wall is something tall and thin covered by a white dust sheet. Ignoring the crates, Sam steps up to it and pulls the sheet down, no dust rising into the air. Sam stares back at his own reflection, the sheet having concealed a tall floor mirror.

The gold leaf flecked, knotted frame and the burnished silver of the mirror itself tell Sam that the mirror is very old. Old World old and must have been brought over from Europe at some point.

Sam leans closer and closer towards the mirror, drawn magnetically towards his reflection in a way he never has been. _When did I get so old?_ Sam wonders, seeing a few gray hairs scattered about his hairline. He reaches a hand out towards his reflection, going against years of experience that are otherwise screaming at him that this is not a normal mirror. There’s just something odd about his reflection.

Hand brushing the cold glass of the mirror’s surface, Sam traces the line of his jaw. Fingers pressing the glass, Sam startles as his digits slide into the surface of the mirror and he feels a cheek beneath his hand. His cheek. But there’s pressure against his own cheek. Stomach dropping, Sam looks down and sees his hand coming out of the mirror and pressing against his face.

Panicking, Sam tries to pull his hand and face back, but the hand from the mirror latches on. Pulling and twisting, Sam tries to get away.

“DEAN!” He yells, but there’s no way his brother will hear him.

With one last tug, Sam yanks himself away from the mirror only to tumble to the cold concrete floor and be weighed down by his own reflection.

Catching his breath, Sam stares up at himself in mounting horror, recognizing the look in his reflection’s eyes.

“Oh, how I have long hoped for this day,” his reflection says. But it’s not really Sam’s reflection.

“ _You_ ,” Sam half-hisses.

“Thought you’d seen the last of me. Well, I’ve been looking for a way back and here I am. My own man.” Soulless Sam leers down at Sam.

“You’re going back in that mirror,” Sam says more calmly than he feels.

“Sorry, but it was a one way trip. Man, look at you, look at us.” A fond smile plays over Soulless Sam’s mouth. “I’ve kind of been keeping low while all this Darkness crap played out, because, I mean, it was a dumb idea to try and save Dean like that when he had the mark.”

It’s a bizarre fascination that stops Sam from trying to wrestle Soulless Sam off of himself as he speaks. Part of his brain is struggling to process that this is a version of him.

“But that’s enough about the past,” Soulless Sam brings his face closer to Sam’s, unbound hair falling around Sam. Breath ghosting over Sam’s skin, Soulless Sam brings his lips just above Sam’s. “There is something I’ve been wondering while I’ve had you pinned here.”

“Wh—” Sam’s cut-off as Soulless Sam’s lips cover his and kiss him softly at first and then hard. Lips tasting like his own, knowing just how much to press, which way to tilt their necks—Soulless Sam understands what they both like and Sam can’t help responding. Help opening his mouth a little when Soulless opens his.

It’s all kinds of weird and messed up, but Sam enjoys the press of his lips. _Not mine, his!_ Sam struggles to think as a pleasurable warmth creeps through him and makes him feel hot despite the cold floor beneath him.

Soulless breaks the kiss and stares down into Sam’s eyes, breathing a little fast and if Sam’s not mistaken—he shifts a little—yes, they’re both hard.

“Now that was better than I could ever imagine it to be.” Soulless quirks his head. “If I climb off of you, will you try to kill me?”

Killing his soulless self had not crossed Sam’s mind and even now, he didn’t think he could. Despite how just weird everything is right this second. “No.”

“Good.” Soulless climbs off of Sam and stands, tucking himself away.

Sam does the same and once he is on his feet, he takes in the ways that Soulless is different to him. There’s a predatory confidence to the straightness of his back and pull of his shoulders that Sam only vaguely recognizes as him.

“How are you… here?”

Soulless looks back at the mirror. “I never… really went away. I was there. Deep down. But when I saw that mirror… I just knew. Gut instinct.”

Giving the mirror a worried glance, Sam turns back to Soulless. “Look, you can’t stay here.” _And not just because you made out with me_ , Sam thinks, but isn’t disgusted.

“I’m not going back. I want my own life. And I am going to have my own life.”

“Dean’s going to lose his shit.”

“Let him. I tried staying gone and it just didn’t work.” Soulless steps up to Sam and reaches a hand out to him, Sam recoils back but the hurt face that Soulless gives him encourages Sam to step towards him again.

Soulless touches Sam’s cheek and strokes it. Sam sighs. “What… what do you want from me? From any of us?”

“To hunt again. Live again. To just be me.”

Sam shakes his head gently against Soulless’s hand. “There can’t be two of us out there, wandering about and killing stuff.”

“Sure there can. We’ll be able to do more good, working as a team. Save more people,” Soulless argues, a note of desperation creeping in.

The logic makes sense. Dean is a capable partner, don’t get Sam wrong, but even Sam had heard about the efficiency of his soulless self. And Sam really doesn’t want to kill himself.

“If you’re worried about what I’ll do—you can keep me on the right path. Work with me.” Soulless stares into Sam’s eyes.

If you’d told Sam this morning that he’d be staring into the eyes of his soulless self by lunchtime and be considering what it would be like to kiss him again: Sam would not have believed you. Wouldn’t believe that he was now considering what it would be like to have Soulless at his side.

“Want something to eat?” Sam asks.

***

Dean yelled and shouted the kitchen down when he came in for the sandwich that Sam had made him. He’d stormed off, cell in hand, yelling down the line to Cas. Sam had invited Soulless into his room to finish his lunch, away from Dean’s outburst.

They had been watching/rewatching _Breaking Bad_ on Netflix, plates set on Sam’s desk, when Sam leaned over and kissed Soulless. Mouth eager and begging Soulless to open his, letting Sam lick his way in and drag their tongues together. Rather than pulling away, Soulless places a hand on the back of Sam’s neck and pulls him in closer.

Crawling onto Soulless’s lap, straddling him without breaking their kiss, Sam doesn’t stop to think what this is beyond that it feels good and like nothing he’s experienced before. Because who the hell has kissed themselves before? Hands come down to cup Sam’s ass and draw him in closer, thumbs rubbing circles into his cheeks. Urging him on. Starting to grind against Soulless, Sam breaks their kiss to draw in a few deep breaths and studies his other self’s flushed cheeks and keen gaze. They’re both getting hard.

“Is this… okay?” Sam asks.

Large hands tightly squeeze Sam’s ass. “I don’t want to stop. Do you?”

Sam shakes his head. “I… this feels—”

Soulless rolls his hips under Sam, grinding up against the clefts of his clothed cheeks, sending sparks of desire through Sam, making him moan.

“This... feels... good,” Sam finishes. “Sa—”

“Call me Samuel.”

“Samuel,” says Sam, the name feeling strange, but feeling better than calling him Soulless. “We’re wearing too many clothes.”

“You’re right.”

Sam’s shirts are pulled off first and then Samuel’s. They shift and wiggle out of their jeans and underwear, and then Samuel pulls Sam back to straddle him. Sweat clings to their chests, heavy drops pooling on their anti-possession tattoos. Samuel’s cock—the same substantial length as Sam’s—rubs between Sam’s cheeks and catches on his perineum sending shivers down Sam’s spine.

“Ahh!” Sam gasps and smashes his mouth against Samuel’s, stealing his breath and tasting him over and over. Leaking over Samuel’s stomach, Sam rubs himself against Samuel’s length. Their musk fills Sam’s nostrils and clear thoughts are hard to fine.

Samuel grips him a little harder, lifting him slightly, so his cock is freed to stand. Without a word, Samuel draws Sam back down into a kiss, left hand on his neck holding him close. Gasping, Sam bucks as Samuel slots his hand over both of their leaking cocks.

Strong hand stroking them both, Samuel demands Sam’s mouth and slips his tongue inside before starting to fuck Sam’s mouth. Their breaths come fast and short, Samuel working himself and Sam just right. Bringing his right hand between them, Sam joins his hand with Samuel’s and squeezes.

A muffled “fuck” works its way out of Samuel, and he deepens their kiss, leaving them with little air. Samuel’s thumb catches Sam’s tip in a repeated tantalizing dance on each upwards stroke and Sam mimics the same on Samuel.

Sam rocks on his his knees a little, pressure building inside him and then— he shouts into Samuel’s mouth, his own cries returned as they kiss wetly and desperately, come spurting over each other as they orgasm. Samuel strokes them through it as Sam shudders and bucks, head light, body tingling all over.

The door to his room opens and then slams shut, but it hardly registers with Sam. Lips on Samuel’s cheek, Sam tries to stop the room spinning as he catches his breath.

“I think Dean saw us. Actually, I think I might have seen Cas too,” Samuel says matter-of-factly.

“Oh God…”

“He can’t help us now.”

Sam buries his face in Samuel’s neck, cheeks going even redder.

***

Sam and Samuel lean against the kitchen counter, side-by-side, displeasing Dean to no end by maintaining this level of closeness. To Sam he feels like he needs to shield Samuel from their brother.

“Sammy… _why?_ ” Dean asks, eyes pleading for the truth and clearly demanding to be spared the details.

Samuel cleared his throat. “It just happened.”

"I managed to meet myself and not fuck myself, why should you be any different?!" Dean shouts.

"Well, if you were hotter..."

Dean gives Samuel an incredulous look before recovering himself. “You don’t just fuck yourself!” Dean cries, clearly appalled. “Tell them, Cas!”

The angel’s eyes go wide with panic, having clearly not expected to be called on to pass judgement. “There is no… precedent for this, Dean.”

Dean stares at the three of them, disbelief writ large on his face. “Unbelievable.”

And maybe he was right: it kind of was.

Regardless, in the coming weeks, Sam and Samuel ignored Dean’s continued hostility and went on hunts together and more. Cas eventually told Dean that it was none of his business what Sam and Samuel did when they were alone, as they were consenting adults.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is in response to [comments](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/143369038625/we-are-living-legends-whitmerule) I recently had on a Sastiel fic I wrote and some on fic by one of my fave writers, spectaculacularsammy. Seriously, anonymous coward: go f**k yourself.
> 
>  One additional line of Dean's dialogue at the end courtesy of LittleGreenPlasticSoldier :)
> 
> [Find this fic on my Tumblr here.](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/143393872155/unbelievable)


End file.
